Don't Tread on Me
by Chocolate Sponge
Summary: In which Niles Crane is not a snobby but well-intentioned socialite, but a retired US Navy SEAL with a scarred mind and a heavy heart. After being shot in the hip and medically discharged, Mr. Crane finds himself in the care of Daphne, an eccentric physiotherapist who seems to want nothing more than to save his soul- and maybe hers, too. Very AU but still Niles/Daphne heavy.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and welcome to my first multi-chapter Frasier story! I have been a big fan of the show for a while now, and have decided to finally dabble in some fanfiction. I know that this being as AU as it is might be a turn off for some people, but I can assure you that it's worth it. Aside from the obvious change with Niles, the characters remain mostly true to their canonical personalities and backgrounds. The only thing that I think is noteworthy right now besides the change with Niles is that I've reduced Niles and Daphne down to age 29 and 28, respectively, and Niles and Daphne meet in 2006, not 1993. Niles was wounded during action in Ramadi, Iraq in late 2005. Fraiser is 31, since as far as I understand he's supposed to be two years older than Niles. Martin is maybe five years younger than his show counterpart, and Roz is the same age as Frasier. Niles still resides in the Montana, and is able to afford the rent thanks to a hefty inheritance and his military pension. Frasier and Martin live together in Elliott Bay Towers.**

 **This story is a bit of a risk for me, but I hope you like it nonetheless!**

* * *

"Thank you for your time. My brother and I will contact you at some point regarding our decision."

Fraiser Crane gave the Latino man at the door a kind smile as he finished dismissing him. As soon as the door was closed, however, the happy mask he'd been wearing was off, revealing the annoyance beneath.

He spun on his heel, his eyes shooting daggers at his brother. "For Christ's sake, Niles! What the hell was wrong with that one?"

The younger of the two Crane boys shrugged, his eyes focused a bit too intensely on the wooden floor. "He just wasn't the type of person I'm looking for."

Frasier threw his arms up in the air, exasperated. "Quite frankly, Niles, I'm not exactly sure _what_ your 'type' is. We've had so many different therapists in here that I'm sure we've now covered every single ethnicity from here to Antarctica!"

Niles looked at his brother then, a slight twinge of annoyance crossing over his tanned, slightly scarred face. "I don't recall ever asking for your help with this. In fact, I don't ever recall even asking for a therapist at all."

Frasier took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a count of ten. When he opened them again, he said, "Niles. I know how hard it must be for a young man like yourself to be restricted to a cane this-"

He cut him off. "No, Frasier, you don't." He stood up, taking a moment to steady himself on his cane. "You can never understand what I'm going through, Frasier, because while I was off busting my ass in Iraq you were prancing around Cambridge studying medicine from the comfort of a dorm room. Don't play that game with me."

The pained look on his brother's face made Niles backtrack a bit. He sighed. "Look. I appreciate your help. I really do. But I can walk just fine, as long as I have my cane. I can make it up the stairs fine. I can cook and clean. And in my book, that means that I don't need a therapist."

The doorbell rang then. As Frasier went to get it, he growled, "Well, it just so happens that your doctor thinks otherwise. Now, this is the last of the people we're interviewing."

"Ever?"

"Ever. So be nice, for once in your life, instead of acting like someone shoved a cactus up your butt."

Niles sat back down on his fainting couch, his gaze training itself once more on the floor. He had learned after over a dozen interviews that by doing this, he was easily able to shorten the amount of time each therapist spent in his home. All it took was for Frasier to finally run out of things to say. Then, he'd simply make no comment until Frasier became so fed up with the silence that he dismissed the therapist.

It was a good system. Niles was sure Frasier had him figured out, but quite frankly he didn't care. There wasn't much Frasier could do about it, anyways.

"Hello. I'm Daphne Moon. Is this the Crane residence?"

Niles's head snapped up and to the side as a very feminine voice reached his ears. It was pleasingly accented - Manchester, maybe? - and much more soothing than the gruff voices of the male therapists he'd become accustomed to "interviewing".

Frasier, as was typical of a man such as he, became the most open, inviting host as soon as the door had been opened. Any trace of the anger he'd felt in regards to his stubborn sibling was no longer present. Instead, he donned a cheeky grin and bright, happy eyes.

He invited this "Daphne Moon" into Niles's apartment with a sweep of his arm. When she came into full view, the sight nearly took his breath away.

She was stunning. Her brown hair was swept up into a messy but nonetheless attractive ponytail, and she was wearing a nice skirt, a (pleasantly tight) black shirt, and a beige jacket. Her hands flexed nervously around the strap of her purse as she and Niles made eye contact for the first time.

God, her eyes. They were so captivating.

Almost immediately, however, Niles found himself jerking himself back into reality. _Come on, Niles,_ he chastised himself. _She's a physical therapist, not your mail-order bride. Stop acting like such a buffoon._

She smiled sweetly at him. Walking toward him, she extended her hand. "Daphne Moon. You must be Niles Crane. I've heard a lot about you."

Niles shot his brother a brief look. "Yes, I'm sure you have." He took Daphne's hand and shook it firmly. "It's a pleasure to have you in my home. Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable."

As Niles expected he would, Frasier took control of the situation almost as soon as Daphne had seated herself on one of Niles's chairs. He stood over her, arms folded like he was a parent disciplining a child.

"So, Daphne," he began. "Tell us a little about yourself."

"Well," she replied, her hands gripping nervously at her skirt. "I grew up in Manchester with me brothers and me parents. I've been over here for, oh, about eight months now. I had meself a client before now, but I don't anymore."

"What happened to him?"

"Her," she corrected. "She died," she went on rather matter-of-factly. "There was a bit of a slip-up in the kitchen. Don't worry though- I stood trial. They found me innocent. Turns out she just slipped on some water and fell on a butcher knife she'd been using to cut up a cow heart."

Frasier just looked at Niles, who raised his eyebrows and looked away.

 _Pretty, but strange._

"Okay then," Frasier said. "Is there... anything _else_ we should know?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. No, I don't think so. Nothing serious, at least."

"How well can you cook and clean?"

Niles rolled his eyes. _There he goes again,_ he thought. _Making me look like a feeble man who can't do even the simplest of things._

"I've been told that I clean well. Me cooking is good, too, although I don't know how to cook much outside of the English stuff."

Frasier clapped his hands together. "Well, food is food, am I right? Niles?"

The veteran simply grunted in response.

"Oh, now, it's not that bad," Daphne soothed. Rising from her chair, she moved to put a hand on Niles's shoulder. "I know it must be hard to give up your freedom. But try not to think of it like that. Try to think of it like... I'm your live-in housekeeper."

Niles's head snapped up. "Live-in?" he echoed.

She nodded. "Yes, live-in. Your brother told me that's what you were looking for."

Slowly, Niles looked up at his brother, who had an awkward look on his face. "Did he now?" He rose from his chair. "Frasier, may I see you in the kitchen please?"

The Seattle psychiatrist sighed. "Alright, alright. We'll be just a minute, Daphne."

The two Crane men walked together into the kitchen. As soon as the door had swung shut behind them, Niles turned on his brother. "Frasier, have you gone absolutely mad? You can't expect me to live alone with her!"

"And why not? You seemed to have no issue with the thought of living with a male physiotherapist."

"Because I'm used to living with men, thanks to the service! A single woman is totally different than a married man!"

"Thank you for pointing that out, Niles," Frasier droned. "I had no idea there was a difference!"

"Oh cut it out, Frasier. You almost had me considering hiring her, and then you had to go and drop the bomb that she'd be living with me! I expected you to know better than to expect me to live with someone of her gender and relationship status!"

"Oh please, Niles. I saw the way you were looking at her when she came in. You were obviously entranced by her."

He shook his head. "Thinking someone is pretty is not the same as being 'entranced' by them, Frasier. Unlike you, I am not capable of immediately becoming attracted to a woman."

"Are you implying that I'm easy?"

"Well I'm not saying you're hard." As a look of angry horror spread across Frasier's face, Niles moved to leave the kitchen. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to break the news to Daphne that her services won't be needed."

Before he could leave, however, Frasier blocked the door. "No."

Niles stared at him incredulously. "No? Let me by, Frasier."

"Absolutely not. I will not have you go out there and drive away the last able physical therapist in Seattle!"

"Well, then I guess it's a shame I don't care about your opinion," he sneered.

He thrust himself forward in an attempt to push his brother out of the way. As he did, however, a sharp pain shot through his wounded hip. He cried out, nearly falling to the ground.

Frasier caught him almost immediately. "Niles! Niles, are you alright?"

He straightened himself. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just stumbled a bit, that's all."

At that moment, Daphne burst into the kitchen. "Is everything alright? I heard a cry, and figured-"

Niles cut her off. "Everything's fine. I just stubbed my toe, that's all."

"Let me get you some ice," she offered.

He waved the offer off. "No thank you, Daphne. I've dealt with much worse. Now, um, about that job-"

"You're hired!" Frasier cried, throwing his arms up in the air. "Congratulations!"

As Niles threw his brother a death stare, Daphne threw her arms around the elder brother. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried, sounding on the brink of tears.

She soon moved off of Frasier and started toward Niles. "And thank you, Mr. Crane. I promise I'll do whatever I can to make you feel more comfortable.

 _You leaving would make me feel more comfortable._ He placed a hand on her chest, stopping her from hugging him. When she gave him a confused look, he explained, "I don't like hugging. No hugs; that's one of the rules around here. In fact, let's just make as little physical contact as possible."

"Niles has a problem with intimacy and physical signs of appreciation," Frasier added, his tone almost mocking. "You'll have to excuse him.

"Oh, that's quite all right!" Daphne replied. "I can live without a hug from me new patient for now."

"When can you start?" Niles mumbled, knowing full well that Frasier would have just asked it anyways.

"Well," she mused, "I don't live far from here. I can have all me stuff packed and here by seven."

Niles nearly broke down. _Seven? That's only three hours from now!_

"Perfect!" Frasier cried, bringing his hands together with a loud _smack!_ "How about dinner at 7:30? My treat. We'll go to that fancy new restaurant, the _Restauranteur di Amore_. Just the three of us."

"Oh Dr. Crane, you don't have to do that!" Daphne protested. "Taking me out to some fancy restaurant isn't really necessary. I can just cook something up here for Niles and I. I'm sure there's plenty more Niles wants to know about me."

Knowing full well that a night at the _Restauranteur di Amore_ would give him just a little while longer to avoid having to be alone with Daphne, Niles jumped to take the opportunity. "I'd love to go, Frasier. I haven't been out to eat in God knows when."

Daphne sighed. "Well, I guess it's settled then. I'll go pack me bags."

* * *

As was to be expected, the _Restauranteur di Amore_ was packed. Seattleites of the highest class dined on food with names too foreign for any but the truly well-spoken to pronounce and sipped only the best wine and champagne.

The maître d' seated them at a table in the corner, which Frasier protested but was forced to accept in the end. Apparently the table had its view partially blocked by a plant.

"Honestly," Frasier muttered as he took his seat, "one would expect more courteous service from what's supposed to be a fine dining establishment."

"Oh, give it a rest Frasier," Niles snapped. "There's nothing worth seeing in here anyways."

A look of shock developed on the elder Crane brother's face. "Nothing to see? For your information, Niles, there just so happens to be a piece of art right over there-" he paused to gesture toward a painting that was half obscured behind the plant "-that was made by the fabulous Daniel von Fluberbach. Such an exquisite piece deserves my full attention."

Daphne, who was seated beside Frasier, twisted around to look at it. She squinted, a confused look dawning on her face. "It's just a bunch of colors splattered on a canvas."

He gave her an annoyed look. "It is not 'just a bunch of colors', Daphne. The colors are perfectly arranged so as to convey a broad range of emotions, inviting the observer to take a ride on the rollercoaster of the human subconscious."

At that moment, a waiter approached the trio, sparing Niles and Daphne from any more of Frasier's snobbish rambling.

As the finely-dressed man began taking Daphne's order, Niles found himself looking at von Fluberwhatever's painting. He couldn't help but wonder if such an array of colors had been intentional, or if the whole piece had simply been a consequence of letting a toddler play with paint.

He shook his head, still not seeing the appeal of it. He figured that his mind was simply not properly tuned in to Frasier's world of herb baths, hand-stitched sweaters and put-you-to-sleep symphonies.

For himself, he chose the only thing on the menu that he could recgonize as palatable: filet mignon, or _filet de bœuf_ as the snail-slurping French called it.

As he heard Frasier place an order for pheasant, Niles gave the psychiatrist a strange look. "Don't you ever eat normal birds?"

The socialite sniffed. "Pheasant is a delicacy, Niles. It is certainly much more soothing to the taste buds than the dry, tasteless meat that you consume on a daily basis. You should try it sometime."

He gave a sarcastic laugh in response. "Thanks, but no thanks. My taste buds don't need some fancy bird to make them happy."

Frasier shrugged. "Suit yourself."

There was a silence at the table for a few moments before Daphne piped up. "You know, pheasant doesn't sound half bad."

"Thank you, Daphne," Frasier said, giving his brother's new caretaker a snobbish look of gratitude.

The physiotherapist did not stop there, however. "Back in Manchester, me Grammy Moon used to boil lamb heads and put them in a stew. I remember she'd always be bringing it over, and me mother would always throw such a fit."

"Dear God!" Frasier suddenly exclaimed.

She shrugged rather nonchalantly. "It wasn't that bad, once you got past the eyes and all."

He shook his head feverently. "No, not that. Niles, look over there!"

The other man turned, his eyes falling upon a brown-haired woman in a rather tight but nonetheless attractive blue dress. A burly man was pulling a chair out for her.

"That's Roz!" Frasier hissed.

"Thank you, Frasier," Niles droned. "I almost mistook her for Madonna."

Ignoring his brother, Frasier shot up out of his chair. "I can't believe her!" he snarled. "She told me that she wasn't feeling well, and that's why she couldn't join us! And where do I find her? A restaurant, and with a man no less!" He stormed off toward her.

Daphne gave Niles a confused look. "Who's Roz?"

He sighed. "Frasier's, ah, _loose_ producer. She's always running off with one man or another. It really irks Frasier, probably because it reminds him of his own commitment issues."

She nodded at his explanation, then shook her head. "I never understood women like that. Always running around looking for a good time like sex is the only important thing in the world."

Her uttering of the word "sex" brought all of Niles's fears about living alone with a (single) woman rushing back. He cursed Roz's presence for bringing the subject back into the air.

Daphne gave him a concerned look. "Are you all right, Mr. Crane?"

He realized that he had allowed a strange look to cross over his face. He swallowed hard, deciding to be direct with her while he still had the chance. Might as well clear the air up, even if it did make things awkward for a bit. "Listen, Daphne-"

" _I am wounded!_ "

Frasier's offended scream silenced the restaurant. Everyone turned in the direction of the outburst, just in time to see Roz Doyle push Frasier Crane back, doing so with enough force to send him toppling on top of an older woman. Wine splashed out of the glass in her hand, staining his new suit.

The elitist man looked down at his wrecked clothing, a horrified look invading his features. "How- how _dare_ you!" he roared up at his co-worker.

She stuck a finger right up in his face. "You best stay out of my business, Frasier Crane, or you'll have more than just a damaged suit to deal with! This is the third date in a week I've had ruined because of you!"

"Well, maybe if you'd just been honest in the first place then this never would have happened!"

"Or maybe if you would just mind your own damn business, Frasier, then we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"I am not the only one at fault here! Have you forgotten that just two days ago-"

She nearly smacked him. "Oh, shove it up your ass, Frasier." She started to walk away.

"Excuse me!?"

She ignored him and walked out of the restaurant.

Slowly and dejectedly, Frasier wandered back over to his own table, the eyes of the other diners burning into his back. He sat back down in his seat, head in hands.

Niles sighed. This was proving to be a very trying night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! When it comes to multi-chapter stories, I always like to publicly respond to reviews for one chapter in the A/N of the next. As such:**

 **appreciateinvalue: Thank you! Most of what Niles had in common with Frasier in the canonverse is not true here, but there are some similarities that do remain, as we will soon see.**

 **dreamer 3097: Thank you!**

 **iloveromance: Thank you so much! Such words coming for someone who is such a big part of the Frasier fandom means a lot! I personally noticed that the great majority of Frasier multi-chapters are re-writes of episodes or add-ons to episodes, or AUs that take place mostly within the realm of the canonverse. I hope to maybe inspire other Frasier writers to think a bit more outside the box and toy with ideas that are drastically different from the show!**

 **I also always feature a story from the fandom the story I am writing belongs to every chapter. The featured story for this chapter is Motherhood Isn't Easy by Kristen3. "** **Daphne is stressed over taking care of David on top of everything else, but Niles knows how to fix it." This is a very cute family bonding shot that shows a realistic issue that many new mothers face. Check it out!**

* * *

 _Beep beep beep._

Niles slowly opened his eyes, the weight of sleepiness heavy on his eyelids. Without moving his head, he reached over and felt for the alarm clock in the darkness of his room. Eventually, he found it, and jammed down just the right button. The shrill beeping ceased.

Sighing, he ran his hands down the length of his face before sitting up. Glancing at his clock, he saw that it now read 5:02. Perfect. Plenty of time to get things done before she woke up.

Wrapping his hand around the cane that sat beside his bed, Niles boosted himself up with a grunt. With effort, he made his way into the bathroom that was joined with his room.

One look in the mirror confirmed for him that he felt as tired as he looked. He had gotten little sleep the night before, having been kept awake by the disturbing image of Daphne sleeping a mere two doors down. The natural side of his mind kept producing the most salacious images of Daphne possible, ones that made the civilized side of his mind cringe in disgust. Those thoughts kept him awake all night as he tossed and turned, warring with himself over the idea that she could possibly be capable of bringing to life those obscene visions.

He tried to put those memories out of his mind, however, as he knew perfectly well that keeping them at the front of his mind would only lead to more awkwardness between him and Daphne once she got up. He told himself sternly as he splashed water on his face that she was just his physiotherapist. He had nothing at all to worry about.

After answering nature's call, he started making his way downstairs. He'd always meant to move his bedroom down into the empty room he had on the first floor, but it always slipped his mind to ask his brother for help when he was around. It was stupid of him to put it upstairs in the first place, he knew, but at the time he was just eager to be done with everything and the upstairs room was where the movers had put all of his bedroom boxes.

Surprise sparked within him as he saw upon approach that the front room lights were on. He began to feel a tad alarmed; leaving lights on was simply something he didn't do, and he'd specifically told Daphne to make sure they were all off before she went to bed. Had Frasier come to drop off that set of champagne glasses he'd borrowed?

Knowing that Frasier would leave them in the kitchen if he had indeed dropped them off, Niles wobbled over toward the door. His good leg was still trying to wake up, which made his journey to the kitchen ten times slower.

He had almost made it when the door swung open, striking him in the face and nearly knocking him over.

"Mr. Crane!" an alarmed voice cried out. He felt a pair of arms encircle him, steadying him after the unexpected blow. "Mr. Crane, are you alright!?"

He lifted his free hand to rub his now-aching face. "My God Daphne, can't you come through the door a bit more slowly?"

She backed away from him in a near-panic. "I'm terribly sorry! Here, let me get you some ice."

Before he could protest, she vanished back into the kitchen. He made it a point to step away from the door, wary of being caught in its path again. Why the hell was she up so early, anyways? Were all English people early risers?

Daphne came out of the kitchen just as quickly as she had before. She was holding an ice pack wrapped in a towel in one hand. She thrust it toward him. "Here, put this on your face!"

He accepted her offering, letting out the tiniest sigh of relief as he pressed the pack against his reddening cheek. "Daphne, calm down. It's not that big of a deal."

She flung her hands every which way for a couple of moments, clearly not sure what to do with them. Finally, she brought them to a rest at her sides. "I'm sorry, Mr. Crane. It's just, this is my first day, and I don't want to mess things up for meself. I can't afford to lose this job."

He hobbled over to one of his chairs and sat down. "I'm not going to fire you for whacking me in the face, Daphne."

"You're not?"

He shook his head. "Just tell me, what are you even doing up so early? It's not even quarter after five yet."

She shrugged. "I always get up this early. Me mother used to whack me with a spoon if I wasn't up by sunrise. I was hoping to get breakfast ready before you got up, but I guess I got up too late."

He waved it off. "It's fine, I can wait. What's for breakfast, anyways?"

She approached him. "Black pudding. It was one of me old client's favorites, and I thought you might like it too."

Niles looked at her with confusion. "Isn't pudding normally for dessert?"

She laughed (Niles noted how her laugh was almost manic, unsurprisingly) and whacked him over the head with the back of her hand. "Black pudding isn't for dessert, you silly goose! It's made with beef suet, pork blood, and oatmeal."

At her description, he felt himself grow equal parts curious and sick. "I don't really want to know, but I'm going to ask anyways: do Brits really eat that stuff?"

She looked surprised that he even felt it necessary to ask such a question. "Of course! We eat black pudding all the time for breakfast! It was one of the things me grandma always used to make. That and jellied eels, which-"

"Okay!" he cut her off, his appetite rapidly fading. "No offense, but I don't normally include beef suet and animal blood in my breakfast. How about you save it all for yourself, and I'll pour myself some milk and cereal." He got up and started heading toward the kitchen.

She cut him off. "Oh no you don't. I'm your home health care aide, and that means _I_ take care of breakfast."

He cringed at the words "home health care aide". "Please, Daphne. You're my physiotherapist, and I can take care of my own breakfast. I may be disabled, but I'm not incompetent."

When he tried to walk past her, she moved to block him again. There was an almost awkward silence between the two before Daphne suddenly darted into the kitchen. He heard a cupboard door open and shut, and he realized what she was doing.

Irritated that she wouldn't give him a chance to care for himself, he hurriedly limped into the kitchen. He arrived just as she was about to pour some corn flakes into a bowl. He smirked, a sarcastic tone emerging as he said, "Too bad I don't like corn flakes."

She froze as he said that, a single flake slipping out of the box and into the bowl. "But this box was right at the front, and it's almost empty!"

He leaned a bit more on his cane. "Corn flakes are Frasier's favorite. He ate breakfast here yesterday, which is why the box is at the front. As for why it's almost empty, well, he needs morning support a lot." Truth be told, he really _did_ like corn flakes, and he was the one who regularly consumed them, not Frasier. _Frasier's_ favorite cereal was Cheerios, specifically the "original" kind. Niles himself hated Cheerios, unless of course a cup of sugar was dumped upon them (an act that Frasier forbade).

However, Daphne didn't know that. And it just so happened that the Cheerios sat right on the counter near Niles, just an arm's length away. Like it or not, this was his chance to prove his own ability. He didn't care if it was petty, he could pour his own damn cereal.

He launched for those Cheerios like his life depended on it. He grabbed the box just as Daphne made a break for it.

"Aha!" he cried triumphantly. He hurriedly hobbled around the island toward the fridge, mind set on getting the milk.

Daphne realized pretty quickly what he was doing. She, being physically well, was quite predictably able to get to the milk before him. She threw open the left door and grabbed the milk, immediately backing away so that she was out of Niles's reach.

"Daphne!" Niles snapped, his irritation flaming. He took another step and tried again to grab the milk, but she hopped backward as he moved forward.

"Give. Me. The. Milk," he ordered icily. "This isn't fair."

She wrapped her arms around the plastic jug like it was her baby and turned her body away from Niles. "You hired me!"

"I did not! Frasier did!"

She turned her nose up at him. "Well, then, I am sure he'd agree with me! Now I won't tell you again, Mr. Crane. Go and sit in the dining room and wait for your breakfast."

He looked at her incredulously. "Are you- Are you giving me orders?"

She looked nervous now. "It's for your own good."

 _That_ set him off. Nobody gives orders to Niles Crane!

In a move that suprised both of them, he pushed off of the floor with his good foot and practically threw himself onto Daphne. Despite his injury, he was still quite strong from his SEAL days, and he was easily able to overpower her and grab the milk. However, the cereal box slipped out of his arm in the process, dumping the oat rings all over the floor.

"Dammit!" Niles cried upon seeing the mess. "Now I'll have to settle for corn flakes."

Daphne watched somewhat begrudgingly as her patient made his own breakfast and whisked it out into the dining room. Truth be told, Niles hated making such a fuss over something so trivial. However, he was a very independent person, and he didn't need some Brit telling him what to do.

Daphne joined him quietly at the table a few minutes after he had seated himself. There was a long silence that hung between the two for a while, until Daphne decided to break it with a quietly-uttered question.

"Are you upset with me?"

The question surprised Niles. He expected Daphne to be asking him if he were sorry, not if he were upset with her. He decided to give an honest answer. "Not anymore, but I do wish that you would let me handle the simple things. I'm not incompetent."

She pursed her lips. "I just don't want you hurting yourself."

He released a bitter chuckle. "I don't think I can get any more hurt than I already am."

She huffed at him. "Don't count on that. I've seen some pretty horrid things in my lifetime."

Recalling some of her stories, he nodded. "Yes, I suppose you have. I understand your concern, but... I'm fine. Really. I only see you as a physiotherapist, not some kind of maid. If I wanted a maid, I would have had Frasier hire one. You see what I'm saying?"

She nodded slowly. "I suppose so. I'm sorry, Mr. Crane."

He shrugged. "It's over. Forget it, okay? Just... you do your... therapist stuff and I'll do my Niles Crane stuff."

"Alright."

They finished their breakfast in silence. After they were through, Niles cleaned their dishes while Daphne sweeped up the mess on the floor.

After that came Niles's first taste of physical therapy. For someone who was concerned about his safety, Daphne sure had him do some pretty crazy exercises. Bend this way, reach that way. Lift this, push that. He felt like he was back at Great Lakes in Navy boot camp, being drilled by the men charged with instructing him. At least he didn't have to wear a uniform.

The pair spent two hours on physical therapy, but to Niles it felt like ten. He was drenched in sweat and his hip hurt like a bitch as he sank down into the welcoming cushions of his couch.

Daphne, who hadn't even broken a sweat, was smiling down at him. "So much for being a tough Navy guy," she joked.

"Hey," he snapped. "I did all the work."

She waved him off. "Of course, of course. Would you like some ice water?"

He nodded. "Yes, that would be wonderful."

As she hurried off into the kitchen, he tried stretching his injured leg. He winced at the sharp pain that resulted. Clearly his hip was not used to being worked. Damn, living with Daphne was getting painful!

As she returned with the glass of water, the phone on the table beside Niles began to ring. Glancing a bit toward the black device, Niles reached out and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" he asked, taking a sip from the refreshing drink.

"Yes, hello Niles. It's Frasier. I was just meaning to inquire how everything is going?"

Niles rolled his eyes. Of _course_ his brother wanted to nose in to how his first day with Daphne was going. "Everything's fine."

"And?"

"And... nothing."

"Nothing?" Frasier sounded angry. "A whole night and morning with her and all you have to say is 'everything's fine'!?"

Niles sighed, putting two fingers on the bridge of his nose. "Frasier, why are you calling so early?"

"It's not early! You know that I get up precisely at 4:05 every morning! This is late morning for me!"

"Well, maybe it isn't for me!"

There was silence for a moment on the other end of the line. Then, "Are you sure you're getting along okay? Daphne isn't driving you crazy or acting too... kooky?"

Leave it to his brother to use a word like "kooky".

"No."

"She hasn't done anything weird or said anything suspicious?"

Niles raised one eyebrow as he took a quick look at Daphne, who was now on her hands and knees examining the underside of his coffee table. "Nope."

"Must you always answer with one word?"

"Of course not."

He heard his brother groan on the other end of the line. "When you give me such vague answers, I can't tell if you're really okay or not!"

"What is this Frasier, an interrogation?" he snapped. "I'm perfectly fine, and so is Daphne! We're getting along fine. You have nothing to worry about. Everything is positively, abso-toutley perfect! Now goodbye!" He slammed the receiver back on the hook.

Daphne paused her examination of the coffee table for a brief moment. "What was that all about? It wasn't me hiring agency calling, was it?"

He put his face in his hands for a count of three before answering her. "No, no. It was just my brother."

"This early?"

He gave her an "I know, right?" look. "Exactly. That's what I said to him. He was being all nosy as to how we're getting along."

"Doesn't he trust you?"

He scoffed. "Apparently not." Wanting a change of subject, he gestured at the coffee table. "Now what's so fascinating about this?"

She stood up. "It's dusty."

"So? I can't exactly bend down to clean it."

A sly smile curled her lips, and he immediately regretted admitting to such a weakness. "Oh really? Well, then, allow me."

As she sped off to find some kind of duster, he let out the loudest groan of exasperation he could muster.

There was just no satisfying her, was there?

* * *

 **So thank you for reading this chapter! I am so sorry it took this freaking long to get out, but life got to me and I entirely forgot about this story! I'll try to be more timely with Ch. 3, and it also should be more exciting. This is still a set-up chapter :)**


End file.
